


A threatening soft

by Wapwani



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Gen, I guess this could be pre-relationship, If You Squint - Freeform, and trust the Emperor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 10:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wapwani/pseuds/Wapwani
Summary: Michael and the Emperor discuss their counterparts, and try to find an understanding between themselves.





	A threatening soft

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this over from tumblr.
> 
> This fic contains a few things I wanted to work through. Don’t go here if you’re not into suggestions of Michael/Philippa or Michael/Emperor Georgiou.
> 
> And since I really hate the idea of Mirror!Burnham being the Emperor’s daughter, I choose to ignore that reality and have replaced it with my own.

“You won’t join me?” the Emperor asked.

Michael - who still thought of her as the Emperor, even though everyone else in the Federation saw her as Captain Georgiou - shook her head curtly. “I have no interest in joining Section 31. It goes against everything I believe the Federation to be.”

“Would you have joined  _her_ , if she had asked?”

“Philippa would never-“ She broke off, recognising the incongruity of saying it to  _that_  face.

The corner of the Emperor’s mouth twitched, a flash of smug self-satisfaction.

“Are we really that different? She and I?”

“Yes.” But it sounded hesitant, even to her own ears. How often had she seen the same teasing glint in  _her_  Philippa’s eyes, when she had pushed Michael, challenging her to be more - more human, more Starfleet, more  _herself_.

“Is that so?” the Emperor’s voice was a sardonic drawl. “Did Georgiou not choose you to be  _her_ heir?”

“Starfleet does not have ‘heirs’,” Michael responded, a little confused.

“Hmm. Perhaps not in so many words. She was grooming you, for the Captain’s chair, was she not?”

“Is that what you were doing, with my…counterpart?”

“Of course. I needed a heir. I didn’t want the Empire to fall into chaos after my death. My own daughters were unworthy. There was no way I was going to leave the Empire to their incompetent hands. So I chose my heirs.”

“More than one?”

“People can be so…disappointing. Do you know how many potentials I went through before I found  _my_  Burnham?”

“When you say ‘went through’…”

The Emperor shrugged. “I don’t reward failure. I thought Burnham was different. I thought she had ambition. But then she betrayed me. And for what?” She began to pace, hurried, agitated. “I would have given her  _everything._  But instead she chose to put Lorca on the throne. To be his bed-warmer, when she could have been his Emperor.” She flung herself into a chair across from Michael, graceful even in this frustrated motion. “I don’t know how I could have been so wrong about her. I thought I saw greatness. But in the end, she was just as weak as all the others.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “I would not have betrayed Philippa. Not unless there was a very good reason. And even then - not lightly.”

“You cared for her,” the Emperor said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I trust she was a good lover to you.”

“What?!” Michael said, pushing back from the table. “We were not…We were not lovers.”

There was surprise in the Emperor’s face. “She didn’t bed you?”

“Of course not!”

“But there was nothing to prevent-.”

“I was her  _officer!”_

“And?”

“Starfleet officers do not-! Regulations. No fraternisation between superior and junior officers.”

“And by fraternisation, you mean sex?”

Michael had to laugh then. “Yes. No sex.”

“Why not?”

“Because - the power differential. It would be unfair, there would be the possibility of favouritism.”

“Hmm. I’d say that is an allowable reward, for holding the attention of a superior.” She rested her chin on her folded fingers and leaned forward, the teasing glint back in her eye. “But I think your Starfleet is more concerned that their officers would not be able to send a lover into danger.”

“Isn’t that an ‘allowable’ concern to have?”

“If my officers were so weak - well, they would not survive very long in  _my_ Fleet.”

“It’s different here.”

“The Federation is ruled by their emotions,” the Emperor said, sounding irritated. “I would have thought  _you_  would be less inclined to go along with that.”

Michael felt hollowness in her belly. Her grief may be dormant and often silent, but it still lived in her, making itself known at times like this. “Philippa taught me differently.”

The Emperor frowned. “Georgiou cared for you. Or she would have bedded you.”

“That is illogical!” Michael spat out, shaken enough to revert to a forgotten phrasing.

“Is it really? If she didn’t care for you, she wouldn’t have worried about sending you into danger. And you and I both know that I know she would have  _wanted_ you.”

“You’re nothing like her!” Michael backed away again, turning to the window to stare into the glowing light of the nebula. She could hear the Emperor chuckle sardonically behind her.

“That’s the second time you’ve denied it. Why are you so sure?”

Michael rounded on her. “Philippa would never have tried to destroy a planet!”

“She’d never killed, then?”

“Of course she had!” The words left her before she had time to modulate her tone, to make herself sound less defensive of her Captain’s legacy, to seem less like she took pride in that part of Philippa’s history. “She was a solider. She had to.”

“So we’re quibbling over semantics.”

“A planet is hardly semantics!”

“A soldier kills because she has to. To protect that which she serves.”

_“You_  serve no one!”

“I serve the  _Empire!”_ Her fury faded as quickly as it had come, and her voice was earnest when she continued. “Everything I have done, was for the greater good of the Empire.”

“Everything?” Michael asked sarcastically. “Murdering millions? Did you  _enjoy_ that?”

“Of course not! I take no pleasure in killing. I am not some mad emperor from our past. I simply do what is necessary to secure the safety and prosperity of the empire. I  _serve_  the Empire. Like Georgiou served the Federation. And the Federation Council judged that destroying a planet was for the greater good.”

_“My_ Philippa would never have agreed to that!”

The Emperor sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Perhaps you’re right. And I think I am beginning to understand why.  _Your_  Philippa was-“ she broke off when Michael took a step forward. “Ahhh, you’re bristling because you think I am going to call her weak.” She stood and crossed the room to Michael, speaking low and throaty. “Oh no, Michael. I don’t think she was  _weak._  I think she was soft.”

“How is that any different?” Michael demanded, but there was less heat in her than a few moments before.

“Why was your Philippa not an Admiral?”

The only reply Michael gave was a confused frown.

“She was certainly as qualified as any of the idiots I’ve spoken to so far. More capable. More  _worthy._  Why was she not an Admiral?”

“She loved exploration. She didn’t want to give up the stars.”

“And Admirals have to give that up?”

“Yes. They-“

“They sit behind desks, and make decisions about sending people to their deaths. Entire planets even. I know what that is like.”

“Not wanting to do that does not make her soft!”

“You misunderstand me, Michael. All I mean to say is,  _your_ Philippa listened to her heart before her head. And her heart was soft. It would have got her killed in my universe. But here, I suppose it could be an admirable thing. To put your feelings above your ambitions. Even if it kept her from bedding you.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Michael said tersely.

“Why? Does it make you regret missed opportunities?”

“You are-“

“-just like her?”

“No!”

The Emperor laughed, and Michael sighed. “…yes. Sometimes.”

“Ahh. A concession. I’ll take it.”

Michael chuckled, charmed and amused, despite herself.

The Emperor moved back to the table and sat, facing Michael, her eyes thoughtful. “You, on the other hand, are nothing like  _my_  Burnham. There is a fire in you  _she_  could not match.”

“Thank you. I suppose.”

The Emperor grinned, feline and sly. “If it had been you in my universe, you would not be my heir. I would not have saved you for the future of the Empire. I would have kept you for my present.”

“If it had been  _me_  in  _your_  universe, the rebellion would have succeeded long ago.”

The Emperor laughed delightedly. “As I say,” she said softly, “a fire she could not match.” She got to her feet, stiffened her back and squared her shoulders. “Are you sure? You won’t join me? You can do more to protect your Federation from the shadows than you ever could standing in the light.”

Michael shook her head. “I am a Starfleet officer.”

The Emperor inclined her head, a brief nod of acknowledgment. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.” She turned on her heel and sauntered towards the door.

Michael felt a bittersweet pull, and she had to force herself to not call after the Emperor, to keep her there a few moments longer.

As though she felt that call, the Emperor paused at the open door, and turned to offer Michael a long, slow, smouldering look. “Though I do have to warn you.  _I_  am not soft.”


End file.
